The Drawing Room
by vratsababe
Summary: A collection of short scenes that take place in the Drawing Room at Malfoy Manor. Chapters span from humor to romance to angst to tragedy. LM/NM and DM/AM pairings.
1. Alibi

Alibi

Alibi

"Lucius!" Narcissa cried out, leaving the door wide open and dashing out into the midnight air. The crack of light illuminated the stone steps and her silhouette as she ran to catch her husband in her arms. Her lips met his feverishly. He was wounded, yes, but he was alive. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead as red as the fallen leaves on which they stood. A cut near his temple stained his white-blonde hair with a deep, rusted mahogany tint. Narcissa held his face in her spidery grasp and met his steely, exhausted gaze with her worried sapphire orbs.

"I was listening to the radio… it can't be true…" She trailed off tearfully, "It's not possible…"

"I'm afraid it is true, Narcissa," Lucius coughed, "And His supporters are already showing signs of disloyalty. This could be very difficult for us. We are, what you might call, big tickets for those who are looking to save their own skins."

She knew what he meant. The Dark Lord had fallen and all of his supporters, save perhaps her deranged sister, would be looking for a potential escape from the coming consequences. She couldn't entirely blame them; they had families… some had children Draco's age or younger. She felt nauseated at the prospect of what she knew was coming. Lucius was of high standings and turning him in would be a release for someone else.

She looked into his face, noticeably blanched even in the dim light cutting into the night from the house. The concern on her stoic knight-in-shining-armor's face sparked a nurturing drive in her. She grabbed his hand firmly and led him back into the ivy-crested manor, "Please, Luce, come in and lay down. Let me get you cleaned up."

She led him into the drawing room and helped him gently onto one of the sofas. His black robes were covered in powdery white debris and splatters of dried blood. He rested his head on the arm rest and grasped onto the ornately carved woodwork, closing his eyes as his loving wife attended to his wounds.

Lucius sighed deeply, his eyes remaining shut, "I took the mark to give both you and our posterity a good, secure life and I may not even be here to see my son grow up," He swallowed hard, "I could very well spend the rest of my life and the vast majority of his in Azkaban… I grew up with a drunken shadow of a father and now my son could have even less than that."

His silver eyes opened and focused on her. She held the bottle of dittany and the rag stationary, stalling in the intensity of his anxious stare. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, so lightly that his eyes hadn't closed fully and his lips were left slightly agape in her wake, "We'll make it through this, Luce. You have your alibi and I will stand beside you no matter what."

As she reached to his forehead to brush back the blood-crusted hair from his wound, Lucius took her hand and kissed her fingers. He pulled her in to him and kissed her with the same fire as when he had first kissed her, as when he had first made her his, as when he gave her his name… "

"Lucius—" She began as they pulled apart, but he put a finger to her lips and stroked her golden hair gently. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, holding onto him lovingly. He whispered almost silently in her ear, "Ya vas lyubyu."


	2. Qu'estce Que Tu As Dis?

Qu'est-ce Que Tu As Dis

Qu'est-ce Que Tu As Dis?

He felt like he had overslept, yet it was summer vacation already. The monstrous house was usually pretty peaceful, but that morning it felt even quieter. He hopped out of bed and pulled his housecoat over his mint green pajamas. Draco pushed his white blonde hair from his still-sleepy eyes and ran swiftly down the hall. He passed his father's office and the door was ajar. He peered inside and noted that his father must have stepped out on business and scrambled down the hallway to the stairs. He took them two at a time, hopping on the banister for the last few steps and letting his bare feet hit the cold floor with a satisfying thud.

The drawing room door was open just like his father's had been, but pushing it still farther open, he spied his mother sitting in the corner with a book and a tea tray. She looked up at him briefly and smiled as she turned a page.

"I was hoping you would get up before tomorrow began," She said, her eyes returning to her book.

"What time is it anyway?" Draco asked as he crossed the room, plopping down on the seat next to her and taking a crumpet from a silver platter.

"Nearly noon. I had thought about waking you but I figured as it's your first day without school…" She took her bookmark from the back of the book and settled it in between the pages, "You needed a little break from the routine."

"Thanks Mum. I really enjoyed the extra sleep," Draco took a tea cup from the tray and poured himself some of the transparent green liquid. Narcissa placed the leather-bound book on the end table, "Yes, well, you'll be beginning your summer routine soon enough. Piano, Quidditch practice, French lessons…"

"Mother," Draco interrupted, "Do you think I could stop taking French lessons?"

"What?" Narcissa looked at her son inquisitively, "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"I—I just don't want to speak French anymore. I never use it," He insisted. Narcissa looked less than impressed. Draco looked around desperately as his mother crossed her arms and sat back in her chair; a trademark move she used on both the Malfoy men when she was feeling particularly stubborn. He added, "I would much rather learn Russian, Mum. Father speaks Russian. I'd like to broaden myself."

"Because you can't do that by learning French?" She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and pouted her lips resolutely. Draco sighed impatiently, "Yes, I can, but I would really like to do something different this summer, Mother. French isn't the only language out there, you know."

"I am perfectly aware of this, Draco, and I think you should continue on with one language until you are fluent and then worry about another. You already have months of school when I know you're not practicing," Her voice remained level, but Draco knew that his refusal to take lessons was of personal offense to his mother. She looked at him and saw her husband reflected exactly in those steel gray, resolute eyes and she stood.

"Fine! Don't take French! Never become fluent! You'll have a difficulty gaining a position in foreign diplomacy if you can't even stick with a language for more than eight years! I'll talk to your father later about getting you a Russian tutor," She left the room in a fury, slamming the door behind her. Draco stared at the closed door for a second before grabbing the silver tray of crumpets and heading back upstairs to get dressed for the day.


	3. The Power of a Rose

The Power of a Rose

The Power of a Rose

People had been sifting through the room for what seemed like hours, coming to him, shaking his hand, and offering condolences that he knew they didn't mean. Black lengths of fabric hung from the wall, a great empty silver casket sat filled with white roses before the fireplace, and his mother sat numb beside him. He couldn't be so sure why his mother had cried; he hadn't ever expressed love for her in all the time Lucius had been able to recall. He looked down at the elaborate black satin robes his mother purchased for the funeral; a masterpiece lined with silver thread, and shuddered. He felt no obligation to be here; he hated his father, he shouldn't be so decorated for his celebration of death.

He stood, needing to regain the feeling in his long legs, and his mother looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks. He patted her shoulder and walked to the back windows, pulling back a pane of heavy black fabric. The December snow was piling up grandly over the manor grounds. He could see the entrance to the family tomb, a work of hand-carved stone where so-called mourners were coming and going. It was a great deal lighter than the darkened room alluded, but the gray sky looked down menacingly to the snow-covered earth. He sighed, glaring at the landscape when he felt the strange feeling that he needed to turn. Sure enough, when he looked to the drawing room door, Narcissa Black was coming through with her mother.

She looked incredible. Her golden hair was pulled up on top of her head and her cheeks were kissed with rose from the cold outside. She wore black robes, not as fancy as his, but beautifully fitting to her figure. Her lips were a deep red; a color he may have said was too mature for her on any day but this day. He needed someone beautiful and mature like Narcissa to pull him back from all of the phoniness of these visitors and back into the world he much preferred to visit. Her eyes caught his with a sad smile and he strode immediately to her.

"Lucius, I'm so sorry for your loss," She said, hugging him warmly, "It was so sudden."

"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault," He didn't dare kiss her right then, as her mother wouldn't be likely to approve, but took her hand instead, "Would you mind stepping outside with me? I need some air."

"Oh, not at all," She looked at her mother who nodded in approval. Lucius kissed his mother on the cheek and noted to her that he would be right back. He took Narcissa through a side door and down a hallway and into the brisk winter air.

"I couldn't believe it when I got your letter," She said, breaking away from her and strolling to the railing of the balcony to give him a little space.

"The mediwizards couldn't believe it. Dragon Pox isn't usually as acute as his case. I suppose it was the alcoholism that quickened the process… acted as a catalyst," He trailed off, his voice becoming quieter, "I can't say I'm… displeased."

He hadn't said this in words yet and it caught Narcissa a trifle off guard as well. He looked at her and shrugged, "I hated him, Narcissa. He never treated me like a son… I never made him proud, never received any sort of recognition from him, and he hated me as well."

"How could any parent ever hate you, Lucius?" Narcissa walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head on his shoulder, "You are an excellent son; your mother is so full of love and pride when she looks at you. Your father was lucky to have had you as a son even if he didn't realize it."

Lucius kissed Narcissa's head and circled his arms around her as well, not caring who saw them or if they approved or not. She looked up at him, inviting him to kiss her normally and he took the invitation. As they broke apart, he looked into her cerulean gaze and a ghost of a smile played at his lips in silent relief. Narcissa reached into the folds of her robes and retrieved a long stemmed rose the color of her perfect lips, a fierce crimson. With a single kiss, a single glimpse of deepest blue, and a red, red rose she had fixed what the million broken emotions inside of him had shattered.


	4. A Ring, A Symbol of Stability

043 Square- A Ring, A Symbol of Stability

Narcissa looked at her new wedding ring in the flickering light of the Drawing Room. It was not a modest ring by any stretch of the imagination. A five carat clear gray diamond sat on a platinum band ingrained with pearls and emeralds. It was a beautiful replacement for her original ring, which she had given to Draco and Astoria for their own wedding. It had a beautiful shine to it and if she caught it in the right light it cast prisms across her hand. She didn't think it was too extravagant; it was just right. True, she had gotten used to the finest things in life but it hadn't been what she had expected. The diamond was Princess cut, unlike her previous colorless Marquis and it had the emeralds and pearls instead of more diamonds. She turned her hand in the light admiring it from every angle. Lucius looked up from his book and caught a glimpse of her admiring it and smirked a bit. She hadn't stopped looking at it since he brought it home for her. He returned to his book, still smirking.

"Lucius," Narcissa called after a few moments of silence. "Why did you choose a square diamond? I'm not complaining… just wondering."

He peered up over his reading glasses. "The square is a symbol of stability, integrity and security. It seemed fitting."

He tried to say all of this like he hadn't done a great deal of research, but Narcissa knew otherwise. She was grateful that after all these years of marriage he had learned to give her gifts that held meaning. While they were dating she had trained him to give her things that could tell a story. She had learned this from her grandmother who had a long and loving marriage with her grandfather, unlike her parents. Lucius had caught on and had stopped sending her ten dozen red roses and exchanged them with hydrangeas from his mother's garden. He dusted off his old cello to play for her rather than hiring a quartet to serenade her. Her mother always told her if she kept testing him he wouldn't stay but his constant endurance let her know he would never leave.

She smiled coyly and questioned him further, "The pearls?"

He sighed and removed his glasses, seeing the direction she was taking with the conversation. He answered, "Beauty, femininity, perfection, and wisdom. Care to know what the emeralds are for?"

"You know me too well, Darling," Narcissa replied, leaning back in her chair.

"I looked emeralds up and first got that they are primarily associated with fertility and wealth," he mused, resting his chin on tented fingers. "But I think the more appropriate meaning for those stones comes from eternal hope, eloquence, intelligence… and love."

"I see," she said in a mock serious tone. "I think it will do."

"It will do," Lucius repeated. "You're a tough customer, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You've made me that way, Lucius," she replied. "If you didn't listen so well I wouldn't expect so much."

"I wouldn't listen at all if I didn't like you," he chuckled.

"Good thing you love me, then. I don't know who would put up with me," she leaned over and kissed him.

"I don't think else would," he commented and received a playful smack on the shoulder.

* * *

I know it's pretty strange that the prompt was square and it's all about a ring but square is a pretty tough prompt to fill. Thanks for reading! Please review. :3


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